


The Death of St. Jimmy

by iggyvoid



Category: American Idiot (Album)
Genre: Prose Poem, from tumblr, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggyvoid/pseuds/iggyvoid
Summary: Prose work that takes place in the universe of the concept album American Idiot by Green Day. Took about an hour and a half to write. Might continue in the future.





	The Death of St. Jimmy

On the day St. Jimmy died, the sunset was a deep, threatening red. 

People found out fast. By nightfall, the wailing in the street was deafening, and no one slept. 

The next day came with the same red sun, and the street were so quiet that you could hear sirens from two towns over. 

They found his body eight days later. It made sense of the dirty water, and after he was found, everyone avoided the bay water, and even the beaches themselves for the first few weeks. Every cop we talked to had a different story. He fell and hit his head, some said. He drowned, said others. 

[REDACTED] and I know a bullet wound when we see one. The Oakland police really think people are that stupid. More reason not to trust pigs. 

The funeral was held on a Wednesday morning, early enough so it wouldn't be stormed by any of Jimmy's junkie clients. There was a priest and everything, and [REDACTED] swears it was probably the first religious event that took place in town in years. I don't doubt her. 

I didn't exactly think that St. Jimmy didn't have a real name, I just never could have imagined what it was. So when the priest called him James Andersen, I was more than a little surprised. 

After the service came the wake. [REDACTED] and I were the only ones there. That was the first time I ever saw her cry. She clung to me, weeping into my shoulder. "I miss him," she lamented. I remembered how little he cared for her. I remembered all the times he disappeared for weeks on end while she crashed at my apartment and pretended not to care. I chose not to say anything about the matter. For her sake and mine. 

She passed out around 5 A.M., and I carried her back to her apartment after the sun rose. Maybe this way she'd finally get the sleep she needed. 

St. Jimmy is dead and there's nothing any of us can do about it. Still though, there's no way I'm getting stuck here as [REDACTED]'s crutch. I know I've gotta get out of here. 

I didn't know it yet, but that would be the last time I ever saw her.


End file.
